A Spring Wedding
by theEmpressGeneral
Summary: Aziraphale starts talking an awful lot about marriage. Crowley wonders if something is up, and soon enough, he finds out! Major angst. Hurt/comfort. Minimal fluff.


"Dear, what do you think of tulips?" Aziraphale asked one bright, sunny morning. Crowley looked up from his phone and frowned.

"Nasty awful things. Terribly precocious for a common garden flower."

"Noted." The angel wrote something on a notepad. "How about white roses?"

"Nah. Always remind me of President Snow from _The Hunger Games." _

"Gardenias?"

"Too stinky."

"Peonies?"

"What kind of name is that? Pee-on-me's? Ridiculous."

"What about lilies-of-the-valley, then?"

"Decent enough. Rather pale, but doable. What do you want to know all this for, anyway?"

"Oh, no reason." Aziraphale flipped his notepad closed and stood with a big yawn. They were in his flat, having ended up there after another night of heaving drinking. After Armageddon't, they had both found themselves drinking significantly more. At the moment Aziraphale had a throbbing headache. "Got any aspirin?"

"It's in the top left cabinet, along with the rest of my drugs," Crowley replied with a wicked smirk. Aziraphale sighed.

"I do wish you'd stop calling them that. They're antidepressants, my dear boy, not contraband."

"What's the difference?" Crowley's laughter followed Aziraphale into the kitchen as he headed for the cabinet indicated. After he had popped a couple of pills, Aziraphale felt better.

"Fancy going out for lunch?" he asked Crowley, popping his spine. "The Ritz is always an option."

"Sure, why not." The demon powered off his phone and sprung to his feet. "Ready whenever you are."

"Lovely." Aziraphale headed for the door. As he held it open, he asked idly, "Have you ever heard of the magazine _Brides, _my dear?"

"Can't say I have. Is it about weddings?" Crowley side-eyed him as he miracled the door locked. What was all this talk about weddings? Aziraphale had never been interested in marriage before. What changed?

"It is. Are you going to drive like a maniac again or will I have to walk this time?"

"I don't drive like a maniac," Crowley muttered, banishing the matter of Aziraphale's unusual manner to the back of his mind.

CROWLEY FORGOT ALL ABOUT what Aziraphale had said until a week later at the grocery store when the angel grabbed his hand and pointed.

"Look, dear, there's the magazine I was telling you about. _Brides. _They say spring weddings are all the rage this season."

"That so?" Crowley narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. It was February now. Most spring weddings happened in May. That was four months away. So why the dickens was Aziraphale bringing it up now?

"Do you remember Anathema and Newt's wedding?" his angel asked. Crowley grunted.

"'Course I do. Bloody awful thing. Way too many people. Yech."

"_I _thought it was lovely," Aziraphale said pointedly. "But if you want a small wedding, I suppose it's not terribly hard to arrange."

Crowley made a strangled noise that sounded something like "ngk." "We're not getting married, angel. What are you talking about?"

"Of course not, dear," Aziraphale said placidly. "I was only joking."

Only joking, indeed. Crowley eyed Aziraphale with suspicion. He was up to something, that was for sure.

THE NEXT DAY CROWLEY DROVE TO Tadfield. Anathema was disappointingly unsurprised to see him, and met him at the door with a bored, "Is it Aziraphale?"

Crowley just nodded. She sighed and opened the door. "You missed him by half an hour."

"What? I did?" Crowley sputtered, surprised.

"Yes. Do sit down. I assume this is about the wedding business?"

"Yes, actually. How did you - oh, never mind. What can you tell me? Aziraphale keeps bringing them up, and I don't know what to say. He's made it pretty clear we're never going to be a thing - 'you go too fast for me, Crowley' and all that. Bleh. So what's all this about weddings, hm?"

"Maybe he likes you," Anathema hedged. Crowley snorted.

"Did you not hear what I just said? He's made it more than clear he doesn't like me like that."

Anathema shrugged. "Seems an awful lot like he does to me."

"Yeah, well, you obviously don't know anything," Crowley snapped, stamping out the door. Aziraphale's words rang painfully loud in his ears: _You go too fast for me, Crowley. _

THAT NIGHT, CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE were drinking again. They had already emptied four bottles of wine and a bottle of tequila, and were thoroughly sloshed, to use the common word. Aziraphale was babbling anxiously and taking shots while Crowley attempted to chug an entire bottle of Spanish rum.

"...and I said a spring wedding let's have a _spring _wedding it'll be fun, but Anathema said that was dumb and now I don't know what to do, I mean how do you just _ask _for someone's ring size, especially when that someone is your best friend you've known for 6,000 years?"

"What?" Crowley belched. His eyes were very red and his throat was stinging fiercely. "Just ask them for their ring size. Boom, done."

"Alright, what's your ring size?"

There was a pause as Crowley's drunken brain processed this. Then he leapt to his feet with a roar. "WHAT did you just say?"

Aziraphale cowered, frantically miracling himself sober. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean - oh, fuck," he concluded, tears standing in his eyes.

"6,000 YEARS?" Crowley bellowed. By now he was sober too. "6,000 YEARS AND YOU NEVER THOUGHT TO TELL ME?!"

"I didn't think you liked me back!" Aziraphale shouted, crying.

"YOU BLOODY IDIOT! IT WAS SO OBVIOUS! I WAS SO OBVIOUS!" the demon thundered.

"Well I'm sorry I didn't see it then!" the angel shouted. "I wish we'd had more time!"

"We do still have eternity," Crowley remarked. Then he shook his head. "How could you not tell me? Why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how much pain I've been through?"

"Yes, actually, since I was going through the same exact thing!" Aziraphale shook his head. "Why on earth didn't you _say something?" _

"I did! I said 'Come to Alpha Centauri with me'! I said 'I'll give you a lift home.' I said 'Come back to my flat for the night.' You said no every time!"

"Those were metaphors?" Aziraphale put a dramatic hand to his chest, aghast. "My dear boy, I only said no because I didn't want to burden you. I thought they were simple requests, I never considered a double meaning!"

_"Well maybe you should have!" _Crowley thundered. He took a deep, furious breath. "You know what? I'm leaving. I can't deal with this right now." He turned to go.

"You can't run forever, Crowley," the angel called. "You have to come back sometime."

"Ssscrew you, angel," he hissed, and slammed the door. Aziraphale broke down, wings extending instinctively as he collapsed.

-PART-TWO-

"Crowley? Crowley, it's me. Let me in, please." Aziraphale stood at the door of a small room in a Motel 6. It had taken him forever to find the Bentley; Crowley hadn't bothered to go undercover. Now he stood on the bright, wet pavement outside, holding a big bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley. There was no movement from inside. Aziraphale sighed and knocked again.

"I'm sorry, ok? I was an idiot. I'm sorry I didn't figure it out sooner. I'm sorry for the pain my obliviousness caused you."

Still no response. He hadn't really expected one. Crowley could be a stubborn bastard when he wanted to; it was one of the many things Aziraphale loved about him. He sighed again and left the flowers on the doormat. "Call me if you want to talk. You know my number."

Then he left, angrily dashing tears from his eyes as he climbed into a cab and drove off.

AN HOUR LATER AZIRAPHALE RECEIVED a text message from Crowley. It simply said, THE RITZ. 7 PM. A minute later, another message popped up. THNX 4 FOR THE FLOWERS. The angel smiled and texted back confirming their plans. Crowley could never stay mad for long.

Aziraphale was punctual as always, and Crowley was fashionably late, as usual. He slouched in around 6:25 and sat down without looking around. Aziraphale waited patiently while five minutes dragged by. Finally Crowley spoke up.

"The plants you gave me are pathetic. Haughty, spoiled little things."

"Ah. Yes, of course." Aziraphale chuckled. "I suppose I was rather soft on them."

_"You _grew those?"

"Of course! You really think I'd bring you flowers from a regular old grocery store?" His voice was offended, but there was a playful twinkle in his eye.

"Weeell," Crowley drawled. He was silent for a while. Presently he said, "D'you know how long I've been in love with you?"

Aziraphale's heart leaped. Finally, we're talking about it, he thought. "No," he replied hoarsely.

"Approximately 6,000 fucking years." It was Crowley's turn to chuckle. "Ever since you first said that stupid thing about giving away your sword."

Aziraphale smiled softly. "And how long have you been carrying around a ring?"

Crowley didn't look even remotely surprised that he knew. "Close to 3,000. Ever since they came into style."

"Ever thought about proposing?"

The demon shrugged. He took a little box out of his pocket and spun it on his fingers. "Nah. Too risky."

"Mm." Aziraphale's eyes were fixed on the little box. The look on his face was not unlike his look when he saw a particularly good piece of cheesecake.

"Would you like me to?" There was a clever smile on Crowley's face. His eyes were fixed on Aziraphale.

"Mm. Only if you want to."

"Very well." Crowley stopped spinning the box and opened it to reveal a beautiful silver ring. "Will you marry me, Aziraphale?"

The angel was thrown off by this. He blinked once, then twice, brow furrowing. "What?"

"Will you marry me?" Crowley repeated. "Going once . . . going twice . . ."

"Okay," Aziraphale blurted. Crowley slammed his hand against the table.

"And SOLD to the highest bidder!"

Aziraphale blushed. "I mean yes. I'd love to. I love you."

"I love you too, angel," Crowley said softly. "And you know something? I hear spring weddings are all the rage this season. What do you say?"

"I say yes," Aziraphale said with a gentle smile in his voice. "Now and forever."

THE END


End file.
